


The Gift

by Velasa



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Bosselot, M/M, MGS4, MGS4 spoilers, promises broken, promises kept
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velasa/pseuds/Velasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble set post MGS4, wherein an old soldier wakes up at the end of everything and realizes he's alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [P-sebae](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=P-sebae).



> Based off a lovley commission I received from P-sebae, shown at the end with permission.

 

The memory struck him with the suddenness of a kick to the diaphragm: a familiar body propped up above him, nuzzling his throat and speaking with conviction against his skin _"Don't worry. I won't die until you don't need me anymore."_

That had been 40 years ago in Venezuela, one of the rare moments they'd had to themselves after John had left the Patriots. Adamska had sworn to him on many occasions that he'd burn down the world for him, and he hadn't doubted his loyalty or his love but it was another thing entirely to know it had actually _happened_. The carefully written letter left at his bedside explained everything, and once he figured out how to operate the radio in the corner it had confirmed all of it.

"You did it. You really did it." John whispered into the empty room while staticky voices buzzed about the events that had unfolded in the Bering Sea only a few hours ago.

But there had been more than just the letter. Another gift, a more practical one had been left on the table as well and the worn wooden stock was solid in his hand. For the third time his eye went over a line on the last page. 

_If I can't be there when you wake, I can at least make damn sure you wake up armed this time._

John had carried more weapons than he could count of more types than he could remember, but only the Patriot had ever felt as heavy in his hand as that revolver did just now. The paper crumpled in his grip as he leaned heavily on the palm against the scar tissue where his right eye used to be. All the things they'd fixed in his broken body but they'd left Adam's scar. Fitting, given what had happened. His love and oldest friend had done everything for him even though it had killed him. It was the least John could do to still carry his mark.

...Or not quite everything. "You were wrong, Adamska." A moment of hoarse laughter burned his throat, raw from disuse and more than a decade of having tubes shoved down it to keep him alive. His eye burned as well but that was from an entirely different kind of pain. "I still need you but you're gone."

 

 


End file.
